


What's a little playing between friends?

by Arabwel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, play mating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing?” he asks, genuinely curious. </p><p>Ian’s grin doesn’t waver. “Come on, JR; it’s not gay if your knots don’t touch.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Play-mating - Not just for teenagers!

First time it happens, it’s a hot summer night and they’re sitting in Ian’s living room, sharing a beer after a long day of riding. Just that one, mind, JR plans on getting his ass home and not passing out on Ian’s couch. Again. 

There’s a bead of condensation on the neck of Ian’s beer bottle, and the way he licks it off has JR’s hackles rising, the self-satisfied, smug smirk on Ian’s face only adding to it. 

“Ian?” He asks, voice low and rough as the other man slowly stretches, tilting his head to bare his throat, just a little, legs spread just a fraction wider. 

“Got about thirty six, maybe forty eight hours before I’m on,” Ian drawls. “I’ve got reservations at the Bellamy spa for tomorrow.”

“Of course you would.” JR grins and takes a sip of his beer, letting the chill of the bottle calm his nerves. He can feel his body reacting, not a sympathy rut, not when Ian is still so far from his heat, but hey he’s a red blooded Alpha with a real pretty omega in front of him, one who’s slowly putting his beer bottle down and..

Ian’s grin is wide as he moves, and fuck, it’s like straight out of some porno, the way he braces his arms on the back of the couch, knees spread wide and ass pushed up, presenting oh so pretty. 

“Jesus fuck, Bohen, didn’t you just say you still have more than a day?” JR’s mouth is dry, and his dick has gone beyond chubbing in his jeans to rock hard, and it should bother him to realize Ian makes him wanna pop his knot but it doesn’t. Not when Ian’s still grinning, wiggling his eyebrows and hips in tandem. 

“Yeah, but I’m not going anywhere till tomorrow…” 

JR knows all about those kinds of spas, if he hadn’t before he met Ian, he would now with the way Ian and Holland had bonded over their favourite masseuses and herbal treatments, all the ways an omega could be pampered through their heat without an alpha there to knot them. The fact that Ian, the indolent, unrepentant hedonist that he is would rather preen and primp than have an one-heat stand, well, it makes sense. 

“Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

Ian’s grin doesn’t waver. “Come on, JR; it’s not gay if your knots don’t touch.” 

“Brat,” JR says fondly but he’s putting his beer aside and standing up even before the word has passed his lips, hand going to his belt buckle. If Ian wants to have an alpha rut against his ass and get his slick little omega ass going, JR doesn’t mind helping. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Second time it happens, JR is swearing because he’s going into rut early. He’s got plans, he’s booked a beta PT for a serious CrossRut session because he knows there’s shirtless scenes coming up and using the hormonal boost to bulk up his muscles would come in handy. However, the trainer is not due till tomorrow evening, and he’s already feeling the first stirrings in his loins. 

Ian raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think me forgetting to bring the wine was _that bad_ , Jay.”

JR shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair feeling the sweat already starting to bead on his forehead. Of course Ian would be here, nowhere near a heat thank fuck but he’s still a pliant, loose-limbed omega. That one time he nutted off against Ian’s leaking ass, fisting his knot as his cum soaked Ian’s designer briefs comes to his mind, unbidden. He shoves the thought of a repeat performance firmly aside. 

Loose-limbed and pretty he might be, but Ian is far from empty-headed and JR can see when it clicks, when Ian’s mouth rounds in a little “oh” before he smiles broadly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it.” and with that, Ian is slinking towards him, hand raised to undo the buttons of his shirt. “I’ll tide you over till your guy is available and you can do all your grunting and moaning and flipping tires and punching trees or whatever you big bad alphas do in your testosterone-soaked gyms.”

The talk of other alphas and hormones has JR growling, and blushing a little as a result as he scents the air. Ian fills his nostrils, good, clean omega scent, not saturated with heat pheromones but still enticing. 

The shirt is hanging open, baring the broad span of Ian’s chest as he closes the distance between them and grab’s JR’s shirt, tugging at it impatiently. “Come on, Bourne, off with this and on the couch-”

JR cuts him off mid-sentence, another growl rising deep in his chest as he fists Ian’s shirt and yanks him close, body to body. He buries his face in Ian’s broad neck, scenting deeply as ian starts to push him backwards, towards the couch. 

Only when the backs of his thighs meet the couch and he’s pushed back does he relent, pull away from Ian, mouth red and slick from giving Ian one hell of a case of bread burn. Oops. He starts to apologize but Ian just tchks, saying they’re not shooting so it doesn’t matter, deft fingers sneaking up under JR’s shirt and tugging on it. 

“Here we go, skin on skin,” Ian grins and shimmies until his knees are on either side of JR’s thighs, his ass bearing down on the bulge in JR’s pants. 

It feels good, really fucking good and Ian laughs when he says it, eyes crinkling as he bears down on him harder. “Guess next time you’ll have to suck it up and find someone.”

 _I already did,_ the thought crosses JR’s mind but he shoves it away, hands coming to grasp Ian’s hips and pull him close. This is just a bit of play to tide him over so he’s not gonna bite his personal trainer’s head off tomorrow, 

“Yeah maybe,” he grunts as he slides his hand around, to cup Ian’s perfect ass through his jeans. There’s no slick leaking through but when he moves his hand, slides it under the waistband, his fingers find wet heat and Ian moans throatily. 

“That’s it, Jay,” Ian encourages him as he draws in deep lungfuls of that lustrous omega scent, “Get your fingers wet, strip your knot with my slick.” 

And that’s what he ends up doing, popping a knot in a fist coated in Ian’s slick. His free hand is buried in ian’s hair, pulling the omega to him, head buried in his neck breathing in that heady mix of omega and arousal. Ian’s hands grip his shoulders hard enough to bruise as he rides JR’s thigh to completion. 

Ian’s eyes still crinkle when he pulls back, panting with exertion. “There you go. All set for your macho macho man thing.”


End file.
